


Miss U Honey

by caixa



Series: Real Love [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: FIFA Club World Cup 2016, Friendship/Love, Infidelity, Injury, M/M, Memories, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Real Madrid CF, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8832739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caixa/pseuds/caixa
Summary: Gareth is in Cardiff, Wales, UK, Cristiano in Yokohama, Japan.It’s good to keep an ankle surgery, a new girlfriend and 9712 kilometers between you when you’re so lousy at keeping apart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is something quite fast written. Kind of a sequel to Dream Talk Night Day I guess, I think I'll bundle them up to some kind of series when I have time to learn to do it.
> 
> I hope the end dialogue is easy to follow, let me know if it isn't, I'll add the who said whats if needed.
> 
> Congrats to Cristiano on his 4th Ballon d'Or!

Cristiano’s phone vibrates. Message icon on the screen.

Gareth. It’s been long.

Not that he’s been counting.

Gareth’s message is a simple question: _Hows Japan?_

Cris answers just as simply: _Fine, a bit jet lag, your ankle?_

Gareth: _Gettin better but man im bored._

Cris: _so bored youre txting me thanks a lot._

Gareth: _Haha no. is your gf there?_

Cris: _no_

Gareth: _She looked bored in the sat game_

Cris: _you stalker_

Gareth: _not my fault you were on TV_

Gareth: _you never took me to see your mum and son_

Cris: _pric_

Cris: _priceless_

Gareth: _I thought you were calling me a prick ;)_

Cris: _u try hard to make me_

Gareth: _I can try to make U hard_

Cris: _Don’t start this Gaz pls_

Gareth: _Get naked for the next dressing room pic for me_

Gareth: _Last one after Barca was so hot_

Gareth: _but I need new stuff_

Cris: _creepy stalker_

Gareth answers with a series of emojis: crying face, five tears, a breaking heart.

Cris: _be serious I thought we were over this_

Gareth: _Ill never be over you dear_

Cris: _You know I feel the same but STOP_

Gareth: _I was thinking about the time I brought honey with me_

Cris: _what about it_

Cristiano tries to cancel sending that message, he doesn’t want to read further what Gareth was thinking about it. If Gareth answers and tells he will read it and he will be so fucked. He almost already is because he remembers it so well.

Gareth: _I ate a gingerbread cookie and you tasted the same_

Oh man this horrible sexting Welshman screws him up, putting these thoughts in his head.

Can you call it sexting when he doesn’t type one single explicit word in there but just opens a door to a place in his own brain, a hidden locker where his body keeps the memories of them together? Cristiano fools himself when he tries to forget that Gareth is there already, all the time, under his skin.

 

That day Gareth had stopped by a coffee shop on his way to their date, their little love nest in a big boring building on a dull but busy side street in Madrid. He had noticed little packages of honey on the counter and asked if he could take one with him. Of course, the barista had answered to his polite question, to his cute, shy but still so flirtatious blue gaze.

In Cristiano’s tiny little apartment, the smallest unit owned by his real estate holding company, Gareth dug the little package out of his pocket. He asked, his whole face both pleading and glowing with anticipation, if he could, please, pour it over Cristiano’s cock and lick it off.

Like Cristiano was doing him a huge favour by allowing such a thing to happen.

 

It sounded like a better idea than it actually was.

The honey glued to the skin like wax or sugar paste that beauty salons use for removing unwanted body hair. Only difference was that body heat made it runny like molasses and it trickled…well, _everywhere_.

It was messy and sticky and hysterical and Cristiano couldn’t stop laughing. He rolled on the bed on his back from side to side, knees curled up and laughed and laughed.

Gareth tried to look offended but the laughter was too infectious. After a few minutes they both just laid on the bed, bodies limp, water running from their eyes from laughing so hard.

But it turned better. The aromatic sugary mess was sticky and persistent and there was not really any other good way to clean it up than the original idea of licking off every last bit. Gareth took his time and made sure not a spot was left untouched. His tongue was slow and soft and it dutifully swept the most sensitive parts of Cristiano’s body time and time again, and then his mouth was such a sensation, so hot and wet and tight.

“It made your cum taste like spicy cake batter”, Gareth said afterwards, smiling.

 

All that stuff in the Gareth locker in his brain. A door that is locked for a reason, because while his body has only the wildest sweetest memories, the kind that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the mind has not yet forgotten what goes with it, all the painful complicated things, the hurt, the loneliness, the jealousy, the guilt.

Why does he let Gareth get to the door and open it wide?

Because Gareth needs it right now. He’s not fooled by Gareth’s professionally optimistic social media greetings, how he’s getting better all the time, working on it, sounding so laid back and cheerful. That’s what they do: when the precious body that’s their tool, their weapon, their whole and sole livelihood, shows signs of fragility they must keep up appearances harder than ever.

Gareth tells him that recovering from an injury is boring. It is an understatement. It is boring, yes, but it is so much more.

It is dealing with your worst enemies. Insecurity of getting back as fit as you should be, fear of losing your spot in the team.

It is still more.

It is a reminder of mortality. A reminder of mortality is just another expression for what Gareth really, really feels deep down.

Fear of death.

Sex is the opposite of death, it is the celebration of life. That’s why Gareth clings to it all of a sudden.

Half across the globe is a distance safe enough for Cristiano to let him in, back under his skin, to the locker with Gareth’s name on it.

_Ill never be over you dear._

You don’t have to, baby boy, you don’t have to. Just let me pretend most of the time that I am.

 

He asks if Gareth is alone and when he reads he is, he calls him. He talks in his softest voice that makes Gareth’s breath turn deep and heavy to his ear. He calls him a fucking tease, he calls him worse obscenities. He tells him how he would make him spread against the wide window sill in his hotel room if he was there, spank his ass red with his hand, fuck him so hard, wreck him so he really needs his crutches to walk out of there. He makes him touch himself, tell him over the phone that he has his fingers inside him, that he feels Cris fucking him, that he belongs to him.

He hears the muffled moans, loud panting breath.

Quiet whimper. Silence.

 

How easy it is just to chat afterwards.

“They’ll announce your Ballon d’Or tonight.”

“We’ll see.”

“Thoroughly deserved, Cris.”

“H-hmm.”

“It’s no secret, come on. Are you disappointed there’s no big ceremony?”

“Well, we’re playing. I couldn’t be there anyway.”

“Be sure to kick all the asses there.”

“We try our best. We could use you.”

“You have you. And Sergio. Oh man, he’s something. Kiss and hug him for me, will you?”

“I can kiss and hug Sergio. I will. But I will not say ‘this one is from Gareth’. That would be weird.”

“Has he really got new tattoos? On the knuckles? How did he even fit those there?”

“Yeah, he showed them. Where you heard it?”

“He tweeted a photo.”

“You’re stalking him too!”

“I follow him, it’s not stalking. Like I follow you.”

“You stalk him. Gareth, do you have a crush on Sergio?”

“No!”

“You have. What a nerve. Sexting me and then prying all about your new looove. I’m telling Toni. He will beat the crap out of you.”

“He would not. Toni is not violent. And I have a cast on my foot. He wouldn’t beat a helpless man.”

“You’re only helpless with your man crush on Sergio.”

“I don’t have a crush on Sergio.”

“You love him.”

“Everybody loves him right now.”

“I’m crying. Moving on so fast, Gareth, moving on so fast.”

“Bugger off Cris.”

“Haha. I’ll kiss Sergio for you.”

“And pose nude for the dressing room photos.”

“Don’t push your luck, Gareth.”

“Good luck, Cristiano.”

“Take care, Gareth. Get well soon.”

“Thanks. I love you Cris.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading sweethearts! Please leave a note, I appreciate all comments and kudos <3


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